


The Haunted

by IsolationShepherd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Halloween, Haunted House, Kabby, Kabby AU, Smut, Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:32:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsolationShepherd/pseuds/IsolationShepherd
Summary: Kane and Abby spend Halloween in a haunted house. What on earth is likely to happen?





	The Haunted

Abby Griffin was relieved to get out of her final class of the day on time for once. Her students were hungover from a party to celebrate the netball team’s win in some kind of championship and were in no mood to ask questions about anatomy. Abby was hungover herself, but for different reasons. She turned the corner, and groaned as she saw one of those reasons heading towards her. Doctor Marcus Kane, Chancellor of the University Hospital where Abby taught Anatomy and Cell Biology, cut a forbidding figure as he strode down the hallway, hands behind his back, his black suit-coat flapping behind him, the creases in his carefully-pressed trousers moving in formation with his loping gait. His hair was styled to perfection, each brown strand held in place with a carefully applied gel that forbade any escape. She had seen it escape, though. Last night. When he was… Her thoughts were cut short because he saw her and stopped abruptly, causing a student who was close behind him to run into his back. The student scowled, but any words of protestation died on his lips when he saw who he had bumped into. He scurried away, leaving Kane and Abby alone in the hallway. There was nothing for it but to speak to him.

“Marcus.”

He looked her up and down, disdain on his face, as though she had a temerity even to exist in the same timeframe as him. “Doctor Griffin.”

Abby arched an eyebrow. So that’s how he wanted to play it. Well, she wasn’t letting him get away with that. “Oh, we’re back to that are we? I wasn’t Doctor Griffin last night.”

Kane sniffed, and being Marcus Kane, Abby knew he wouldn’t be able to resist correcting her even though it would mean him acknowledging something had happened between them, and she was right. “Actually,” he said, “you were, at one point.”

Abby hid her smile, keeping her face neutral. She pretended to search her memory, although there wasn’t much pretence; her mind was a fog of half-remembered moments, flashes of pale skin, dark hair, and long, clever fingers. She swallowed to lubricate her throat which had suddenly become tight, and dry. “Oh, yes. When you were on your knees.”

Kane shrugged, but there was a spark of something in his dark eyes; a memory that wasn’t altogether unpleasant, as much as he would have probably liked it to have been. “A moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

“Weakness? Or something more Freudian?”

That comment hit a nerve, and he frowned, his brown eyes narrowing to slits as he regarded her. Abby felt a frisson of triumph. Nothing disturbed a Jungian psychologist more than being accused of Freudian tendencies.

“The events of last night were merely the result of a synchronicity between our appearance at the same place at the same time, an unending supply of alcohol, and a consequent lowering of our inhibitions. As I say, it won’t happen again.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” said Abby, as she moved past him. “Because I rather enjoyed it.” She didn’t look back as she walked as casually as she could down the hallway, but she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, and she smiled.  

\---

A month passed during which Abby didn’t see Marcus Kane. She wasn’t sure if he was avoiding her, but they never seemed to be in the same place at the same time. He sent a proxy to meetings they were both supposed to be at, and when she finally glimpsed him at the other end of a long hallway, their eyes locking briefly over the heads of a hundred students, he turned abruptly and headed back in the direction he had come. She knew he had been away at a conference for University Chancellors, which accounted for one week, and she had just returned from a short vacation to visit her daughter, Clarke, who was at University in Washington DC. His behaviour was suspicious, but then it was a busy time of year for him, with the start of the new semester, and she’d heard from a colleague that his latest psychology book was being launched and that usually meant readings and book store signings. She was making excuses for him, she knew that, and the fact that she was willing to do it was more annoying than his behaviour itself.

When she returned from vacation to Upstate New York, October was reaching its end, and Fall was in full swing. The days were short and the nights long. The dying leaves had turned the normally green campus into a riot of red, orange and yellow. It was Abby’s favourite time of year. She lived in a brownstone on a wide tree-lined street and her walk to the University was like that of a bride through a shower of confetti, the leaves fluttering around her, catching in her long hair, settling on the shoulders of her Burberry trench coat. Kane would consider her fanciful, of course, or overly romantic. She was very practical, normally, but there was something about Fall that lit a fire in her. Her heart lifted when she saw the pale blue skies, and smelt the freshness of the air, which was unique at this time of year, holding the last remnants of summer warmth and the first hints of winter cold at the same time. It shivered through her veins, making her feel alive. For most people it was Spring that was full of promise, but for Abby it was Fall. She looked forward to dark nights curled up by the fire with a book, rain beating against the windows, wind rattling the frames. It was also the time for Halloween, which she was not so keen on. It had become over-commercialised in her view. Her grandparents were from England originally, and she had grown up with a more sedate version of Halloween than the sugar-laden pumpkin-fest she now had to endure. Clarke had enjoyed bobbing for apples in a bucket of water and telling ghost stories when she was a young child but even she had given herself over to the full-blown American ideal. Abby usually spent Halloween in the kitchen of her darkened house, reading ghost stories by the light of a candle, scaring herself half to death when the loud knocks on the door echoed through the house. Couldn’t people read signals anymore? A dark house on Halloween meant leave the occupant alone.

This year she would not be sitting in the warmth of her kitchen sipping her mulled apple cider, however. This year, she was to act as chaperone at the campus Haunted House. This was usually the girls’ sorority house but at Halloween it was transformed into a house of horror, designed to frighten or delight depending on the sensibilities of the young people working their way through its spooky rooms. Abby’s job would be to make sure nothing untoward occurred in the dark between the students. She was not looking forward to it. Each year until now she had got away with not working on Halloween, but now her luck had run out. What was far worse than having to work on her most hated night of the year, though, was that she had been told she must dress up, look the part. Abby had protested because she really didn’t see how it helped the students if she was dressed in similar costumes to them. Surely she should stand out so that they knew she was not there to have fun, but to work. Her Department Head, Dr Jackson, had disagreed, and so Abby had decided that she was not going to dress in a costume as prosaic as that of a witch or a character from the Adams Family. No. She was going as her heroine, Florence Nightingale. It might not be traditional costume, but it was a compromise, and the only one she was prepared to make.

Halloween arrived, and Abby made her way across the campus to the Sorority House. It was a good night for horror, dark and cloudy with no moon and a slight fog rising from the grass, just dense enough to mask what little colour was left in the world. The house itself was a beacon in the dark, the grounds glowing with expertly-carved pumpkins in designs that would make an artist proud. Whenever Abby had carved a pumpkin for Clarke it looked as though someone had created the shape with their bare hands, fingers clawing through the flesh leaving jagged edges, and a face with asymmetrical eyes, a bent nose and a mouth that had never seen an orthodontist. How Clarke was now studying Art and Design at Georgetown University was a mystery to Abby. Neither Abby nor her late husband, Jake, were artistic. As she approached the house, a figure emerged from within, dressed in a long black cloak, and stood in the shadows with arms crossed, watching her. Abby shivered, and looked around. There was no one else on this part of the campus. The house was not due to be opened to the students for another half an hour. She took a deep breath and continued towards the door. A voice came out of the darkness, a low rumble of a voice, reverberating through the night and into her veins.

“You’re late.”

It was Marcus Kane, of course it was. There was an inevitability to his presence, that she should have to spend this most haunted of nights with him, the man who had been haunting her dreams for the past month, no matter how hard she had tried to exorcise him.

He stepped out of the dark, materialising slowly before her eyes, the constituent parts of him reassembling from a shadow figure into the handsome, imperious man she knew so little about, even after two years, and one night of vaguely-remembered but deeply satisfying sex. His cloak reached down to his ankles, only the tips of black combat boots peeking out beneath. Why he was wearing such boots Abby didn’t know. She had only ever seen him in highly-polished dress shoes.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I’m chaperoning the students, same as you. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago for a briefing.” He gave her that condescending look of disapproval he so enjoyed bestowing on her whenever she annoyed him, which was frequently.

“I didn’t know there was a briefing.”

“There was an email. You were copied in.”

“Oh.” Abby was overwhelmed with emails, and it might be possible that any marked ‘Halloween’ had found themselves at the bottom of her to do pile, forever to stay unread.

Kane looked her up and down, and Abby knew he was taking in her costume, with its tightly-buttoned black dress and white apron. She had on sensible black shoes, and a simple white headdress partially covered her hair, which was parted in the centre, and tied at the back in a knot. Abby felt frumpish and naked at the same time beneath his gaze. His brow knitted into a frown, one eyebrow arched sardonically.

“Who on earth are you meant to be?”

Abby stood up straighter so that he wouldn’t be able to tell how he was making her feel.

“I’m Florence Nightingale, the Lady of the Lamp.” She shook her lamp in front of him. “I would have thought that was perfectly obvious.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s obvious. What does Florence Nightingale have to do with Halloween?” Abby was about to answer but he didn’t give her the chance. “Interesting that you should choose it, though.”

“There is nothing interesting about it, so don’t go looking for something that isn’t there. Anyway, your costume is not exactly obvious either. Who are you supposed to be?”

“Quite clearly, I am Death.”

He pulled a black hood over his head so that it covered his brow. It made his skin seem even paler, his eyes huge and dark. His thin lips were almost blue in the cold air. Abby felt an urge to kiss them, to breathe some warmth into him. She swallowed the feeling back down. He was wearing gloves that made his fingers look like they had no skin, just pure bone. There was one thing missing though.

“Death, where is thy sting?”

“My what?”

“Your scythe, or sickle, whatever it is you’re supposed to carry.”

“Oh, yes.” He coughed. “Well, Human Resources confiscated it. It wasn’t in their risk assessment or something. It’s ridiculous.”

Abby laughed. “How are you supposed to harvest souls without it?”

“I have my ways, Doctor Griffin.” He bent his head slightly towards her, his eyes boring into her and for a moment Abby could well believe it. It felt as though he was seeing into her very soul.

“I’m sure you like to think that you do.”

He gave her a wry smile, both eyebrows raised, as though to say, “you should know.”

Abby swallowed, at a loss for words as those vague memories of their one night together threatened to break out of the place deep within her where she had hidden them, locked them up tight and thrown away the key. Kane’s eyes wandered to her lips and she bit the corner of her lower lip as she watched him. Her blood warmed, heat flowing through her veins to her limbs, making them tingle despite the cold. His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit, and his next breath was heavier, the cloud of vapour escaping his mouth more voluminous than a moment ago. That was the only sign he gave that he had any memory of that night at all.

He cleared his throat. “As there is still time before the students arrive, perhaps I should show you around, give you the briefing you missed.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a command, and Abby nodded.

“If it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

“It is a great inconvenience. Nevertheless, I will do it. We wouldn’t want any accidents to befall the students because you were uninformed, now would we.”

Abby smiled at him, to show him he wasn’t getting to her.

“No, we would not. Lead on.”

She followed him into the house, which was lit by hundreds of fake candles, giving it an eerie glow.

“Another health and safety directive,” said Kane, gesturing to the candles.

“Would you prefer to have dozens of students running past real candles, in their cheap, highly flammable costumes?”

“Of course not. It’s just not as authentic as when I was young, that’s all.”

“Did they even have electric light in those days?”

Kane rolled his eyes. She didn’t blame him, it was a cliched joke. “You tell me.”

“Hey, there’s two years between us.”

“I’m sure that makes all the difference.”

“It does. You will always be older than me.”

“You are wasted in the Medical Faculty, Doctor Griffin. Mathematics is clearly your stronger suit.”

“Please call me Abby. I’m technically still on vacation. I don’t wish to be Doctor Griffin until Monday.”

Kane let out a deep sigh, designed no doubt to convey his annoyance with this conversation.

“Very well. Shall we get on.”

“Of course.”

“This is the séance room. Ms McIntyre from Humanities will be doing readings for the students. She has gone home to get her crystal ball, which she forgot.”

Abby laughed.

Kane frowned. “What?”

“Nothing. I wouldn’t rely on her readings, that’s all.”

“Why would you anyway?”

Abby shook her head. Did the man even have a sense of humour? “What’s through here?”

“Ah. Allow me.” Kane opened the door and ushered her through, his hand resting briefly in the small of her back. Abby felt the imprint of it long after he had removed it. He stood behind her as she gazed around the room, which normally functioned as a kitchen. He was so close she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, making the small hairs stand up. She was surprised she could feel it, because he was so much taller than her. His breath should go sailing above her into the air. He must be looking down at her. That thought made her shiver again.

“This is the surprise room,” Kane said.

Abby turned slightly, lifting her head to look at him. “What’s surprising about it?”

“Why don’t you find out? Look around, try things. This, for instance.” He took her hand and before she could say anything he had plunged it through a hole in a box that was sitting on the kitchen island. The contents were cold, and slimy. He held her hand firmly so she could not remove it from the box. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. “What does it feel like?”

Abby looked at him. He was looking at her with a sly smile on his face. Was he hoping she would recoil in horror? It would take more than some half-thawed Jell-O to upset Abby. “It feels a little like the small intestine when I remove it for autopsy. That’s often warm, though. The effects of putrefaction.”

Kane took his hand from hers and she pulled it out of the box, wiping the green jell from her hand on a tissue.

“What a life you lead,” he said.

Abby ignored his comment. “Is that it?”

“Try one of the cupboards.”

Abby opened each of the cupboards in turn. She was expecting something to jump out at her but it was still a shock when a red-faced clown on a spring leapt out of the food cupboard. She jumped back, her hand on her fibrillating heart in a vain attempt to slow it.

“Shit!”

Kane laughed, a rich, sonorous laugh that filled the room. Abby didn’t think she had ever heard him laugh before. He barely even smiled most days.

“I’m glad I have amused you!”

“Do you think I’m incapable of being amused?”

“Do you care what I think?”

He had not been expecting that response, she could tell from the way his eyes darkened, his mouth turning down at the edges. She didn’t know why she had responded like that. It was rude, and more like him than like her. She was annoyed with him, deep down, for laughing at her, and for refusing to acknowledge what had happened between them. He didn’t respond, and Abby began to feel guilty, but she was damned if she was going to show him that. She marched down the hallway that led from the kitchen to the sitting room, pushing aside the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling, angry at them too, for getting in her eyes, and her hair.

“What’s in here?” she said, flinging the door open and stepping into the room. “Oh!” She stopped in the doorway as she was confronted by a dozen distorted reflections of herself and her angry, frowning face in the mirrors that were surrounding the room. The soft orange glow coming from the candles did nothing to soften her features. She saw Kane appear behind her before she felt him bang into her. His hands went to her hips to steady himself, and prevent her from falling over. He pulled her back towards him, a slight movement, barely detectable, and she felt for a moment that it would be easy to let him pull her in, to lean back against his chest, turn her face towards his and kiss him. She could do it now, and all this anger and frustration with him would disappear. It would be easy. So easy. Just two simple moves. Lean, and turn. She pulled away from him, and stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips.

“You’re angry with me,” he said.

“Not at all,” she replied, seeing the lie repeat itself a dozen times in the mirror images of herself that were all around her. She turned away, but everywhere she looked, there he was. She watched in the mirror as he stepped towards her.

“Chancellor Kane. Doctor Griffin. There you are.” Another figure appeared on the scene, an intruder into the multiple conversations they weren’t having with each other. It was Ms McKintyre, the Humanities teacher. “The students are arriving.”

“Thank you, Harper.” Abby turned, and walked past Kane without looking at him. She heard him sigh as he followed her back to the main hallway, where a line of eager students was waiting for them. Abby put on her gameface, and smiled at them as she pulled aside the rope and let them through.

“Welcome to the Haunted House,” she said, “where there are surprises behind every door. Don’t die of fright now, or Chancellor Kane here will have to give you the kiss of life.”

“That’s a frightening thought, Miss,” said Bellamy Blake as he went past.

“Isn’t it?” replied Abby.

“Upstairs is out of bounds,” said Kane from behind her, and the students rolled their eyes as they hurried past.

There was too long an evening ahead of them for Abby to stay mad at Kane for long. Well, she could easily stay mad at him, but she decided not to. They were stuck here together, and it would be a lot more pleasant if she defused the anger bomb that was ticking between them before it went off and the evening became a disaster zone.

“You said it was different when you were a boy, Marcus, the haunted house?” They were standing at the end of the main hallway, where they had a good view into most of the rooms, and could see the students as they made their way through the house.

Her voice seemed to startle Kane out of a reverie, because he jumped at the sound of her words.

“Pardon? Oh, yes. It seemed a lot more real, and a lot more frightening than this is today.”

“Perhaps that’s because you were young, and susceptible.”

“Are you trying to teach a psychologist about his childhood, Abby?”

She searched his face for hints of annoyance, or sarcasm, but there wasn’t any, just what probably passed for an amused smile.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She smiled at him, to show that she too was joking and they stood together in a more companionable silence than they had earlier.

“I can’t imagine you as a small boy, somehow. You’re one of those people who seems to have come into the world fully formed.”

“I can assure you that’s not the case.”

“No, but you are so confident, so self-assured. Does nothing frighten you?”

He looked at her, then looked away. “Some things frighten me a great deal. I am flesh and blood, you know, Abby, despite appearances.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes. Yes.” He looked down at the floor, as though there was suddenly something fascinating there, something that required his utmost attention. “I know you are.”

“Do you? Because it seems to me like you don’t remember at all, or have chosen not to.”

His next words were a whisper, spoken so quietly, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. “I do remember.”

“Pardon?”

He lifted his head then, to look directly into her eyes. “I said, I do remember. Some of it, anyway.”

“And?”

“And what? We were drunk.”

“Yes, we were.”

“Very drunk.”

Abby studied him, trying to read his true feelings in his body language, in all the things he would not, or could not say to her. He was hard to read. A closed book. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but it all made her sound needy, and desperate for his attention, and there was no way she was going to seem like that kind of woman to him.

“Doctor Griffin, can you help? Jasper Jordan has been sick all over the kitchen floor.” An exasperated Harper interrupted them for the second time that night and Abby had no choice but to follow Harper into the kitchen to deal with the mess.

When she returned, Kane was in the séance room. There was a lull between students, and he was standing at the window looking out into the dark night. There was surely nothing he could see except his own reflection in the glass. She studied his profile. His nose had a slight curve, and was bent to one side. He had a scar on his cheek. She wondered if he had got them at the same time, in a fight. She couldn’t imagine Kane ever fighting someone, not physically. He would beat you with an imperious look instead. Head raised, eyes lidded, as though there was a bad smell around, and that bad smell was you.

“Why don’t I do a reading for you, Abby?” Harper shuffled her tarot cards, dividing the pack in half and flicking them together like a dealer in a casino.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.”

“Come on, it will pass the time. I’m bored.”

Abby gave in, although it wasn’t because she was bored. Her mind was too occupied with Kane, and what he had said about their night together. “We were very drunk.” She had been angry when she went through to the kitchen, snapping at Jasper for eating too much candy at his age and making such a mess. She felt that if Harper hadn’t come in at that moment, Kane would have gone on to say it was just sex, no big deal, Abby. Why are you so hung up on it? And why was she so hung up on it? There was an attraction between them, had been from the start, and though they had never acknowledged it, the drink had encouraged them to act on it. One night. Just sex. And yet. When she had been pressed against the wall, and he had been on his knees in front of her, her legs spread wide before him, he had seemed reverential, taking his time, tasting every part of her, like this might be the only time, and he had to commit it all to his memory. “Doctor Griffin,” he had said, in an amazed voice, as though he couldn’t believe it was her his tongue was buried in, her legs that were quivering around him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tried to support herself while every bone in her body was liquifying.

“You’re going to meet a tall, handsome man.” Harper’s voice cut into her memory, bringing Abby back to the present. Her sex was throbbing, and she crossed her legs, then uncrossed them because that only made matters worse. She looked up at Kane. He inclined his head at Harper’s words, but otherwise didn’t move from the window. He was interested, but didn’t want to show it, Abby thought.

“What if I already have?” said Abby with a laugh. Kane clasped his hands behind his back, thumbs rubbing against each other.

“Then your relationship with him is going to change.”

“For better or worse?”

Harper dealt another card. “For better. Although.” She trailed off, and Abby saw Kane turn slightly out of the corner of her eye.

“Although what?”

“This card says there are children in the future.”

“What?” Kane surprised them both by speaking. He had turned fully now, was staring at Harper.

Harper looked back at him, confused by his sudden interest. “Erm. Well, it probably means Abby’s students, Chancellor.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Your students.”

Harper dealt a final card. “The Death card. Not as frightening as it looks.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Abby, smirking at Kane. She was rewarded with a smile, and it made her heart leap, it was so warm.

“Shall I do your reading, Chancellor Kane?”

“That will not be necessary.”

Harper raised her eyebrows at Abby in a ‘what can you do with him’ gesture. “Okay then.”

A new group of students entered the room and Abby left to resume her position in the hallway.

“I’m going to check upstairs,” said Kane, and left her alone, for what turned out, in the end, to be the rest of the evening.

The last students had gone before she saw him again. She didn’t ask where he’d been because he had a stern look on his face that seemed to deter conversation. Harper came over to them.

“I think that’s the last of them. I suppose I should go and double check.”

“We can do that,” replied Kane. “Go home. You’ve done enough.”

“Okay, thank you, I appreciate that.”

Kane shut the door after Harper, then turned the key in the lock. He turned to look at Abby, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Butterflies swirled in Abby’s stomach. Something was amiss with him. “What are you doing?”

“This,” he replied, and then he strode over to her and pinned her roughly against the wall with his body. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He kissed her, his lips desperate against hers, his tongue probing for entrance. She opened her mouth and let him in, and they kissed like they were in a battle, fighting for their lives, hard and bruising, and taking no prisoners. She was breathless when they parted.

“What was that?” she said in between pants.

“Something I’ve wanted to do all night, all month in fact.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Oh, God.” She groaned as he kissed her neck.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I did! I said I’d enjoyed it.”

“I thought you were being facetious.”

“Only slightly.” His hands were on her breasts, massaging them through her layers of clothing.

“This has to come off,” he said, indicating her apron.

Abby reached behind and pulled at the ties to undo them. She slipped the apron over her neck and discarded it on the floor. She started to undo the buttons on her dress but he stopped her.

“Not here.”

“Where?”

He took her hand and opened the door to the room with the mirrors.

“In here.” He pulled her in and she caught sight of them in the mirrors, a man in a long dark cloak and a woman in a prim black dress. The sight was so incongruous, she laughed.

“What is it?” Kane’s voice was deep and husky. He was pulling her further into the room.

“I’m not sure my body is up to the scrutiny of so many mirrors.”

“Nonsense. You’re beautiful.” He was so matter of fact she couldn’t argue with him. If there was one thing you could say about Marcus Kane with any certainty, it was that he was always honest. He stood behind her, so that she was displayed in the mirrors and he was a shadow behind her. “Look.” He unbuttoned the top of her dress from behind, and pulled the bodice down, revealing her breasts. He massaged them, fingers pinching her nipples, all the while watching himself in the mirrors. Oh, it felt good. It must have felt good to him too because his cock was pressing into her ass. She reached behind, pushed his cloak to one side and was surprised to find he was naked beneath it.

“Where are your clothes? Have you been naked this whole night?” The thought was astonishing to her. Had he planned this all along?

“No. I undressed in the bathroom before I came down. I didn’t want to waste time.”

She grasped his cock and stroked it, holding it loosely in her fist. She couldn’t see him in the mirrors but she could see the movement of her hand, back and forth, back and forth. Kane was groaning, his lips sucking on her neck, his hands kneading her breasts.

“I want you to touch me,” said Abby, and she was desperate to feel his hands on her. She’d been throbbing since the séance room, and she was aching with the need for a release. Kane undid the zipper on the back of her dress and pulled the dress down. Abby stepped out of it, kicking her shoes off at the same time. She had stockings on underneath, for authenticity, and because it was so cold. She tucked her fingers into the waistband of her stockings, ready to pull them down, but Kane put his hands on top of hers.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

He was still standing behind her, and now he put his hand between her legs, stroking her crotch through her underwear and stockings. It was torturous.

“That’s not enough. That’s not enough.” She put her hand on his, tried to prise his fingers away so she could take the stockings off, but he was too strong for her.

“I said, not yet.”

He moved to stand in front of her, and kissed her again, pressing her back against the door with the weight of his body. His cloak was gaping open, his cock pushing at her pelvis. He took it in his hand and stroked her with it, rubbing against the nylon of her stockings, pushing them a little way in to her, then out again. The friction from the material was delicious, but still not enough.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said with a groan.

“Please, Marcus. I want to feel you.”

He got down on his knees in answer to her, like he had that first time. Then he reached up and peeled her stockings down slowly, taking her underwear with them. He kissed each section of bare flesh as it was revealed to him, slowly, agonisingly working his way down until finally his mouth was on her, kissing her outer lips, his tongue flicking out to taste her, and then he moved away, kissing her inner thigh as he continued rolling the stockings down her legs. Abby had long legs, and he was taking his time.

“You are torturing me.” She could feel him smile into her calf. “You bastard,” she said, ruffling his hair.

“I suppose you have been patient enough.” He rolled the stockings down her ankles and Abby stepped out of them. Then he put his hands on the back of her ass and pressed her towards him, burying his nose in her sex, his tongue licking her from bottom to top. Abby gripped his head as her knees started to buckle. She could see them a dozen times over in the mirrors, a dozen Kanes kneeling before a dozen Abbys. He circled her clit, increasing the pressure every time, and Abby saw herself thrusting forward at him, moving her hips to the same rhythm, forcing him to lick her harder, and faster. She looked wanton, shameless, and the sight made her come sharply, a deep heat blooming within her.

“God, I love to taste you,” Kane said as he looked up at her from the floor. She held a hand out to him.

“Let me see.” She pulled him up and he took her in his arms and kissed her. His face was covered in her juices, and she flicked her tongue out to lick it off him. “Like saltwater taffy.”

“Better than that.”

He was still wearing his cloak, although it was gaping open, his cock sticking out at her, long and heavy.

“I can’t decide whether I want you to take the cloak off or keep it on.”

“What about the boots?” Kane kicked a leg out at her, turning it from side to side so she could appreciate it all.

“Oh, the boots definitely stay.”

“Then I think the cloak should. It’s not often one gets the chance to have sex with Death and get away with it.”

“That’s very true. Stand still, Death.”

She sank to her knees, and it was his turn to watch in the mirrors as she took his cock into her mouth, sucking the end of it, swirling her tongue over the delicate tissue.

“Be gentle. I don’t want to come too soon.”

She nodded, and concentrated on licking him, stimulating the sensitive nerves, until he put his hand on her head to stop her.

“That’s enough, Abby.” He pulled her up and roughly towards him, kissing her hard. “You taste far better than me.”

“Not to me.” She ran her hands up over his chest. He had strong muscles, well-defined. She slipped the cloak off his shoulders. “I think I want to see you naked after all.”

The cloak fell to the floor and Kane stood still for a moment, unashamed as Abby ran her eyes over him. He always seemed so buttoned up in his suit. Who would have thought such a lean, muscular body lay beneath it? Kane laid Abby down on the cloak. He held himself above her, the tip of his cock poised at her entrance. Abby arched her pelvis to meet him but he didn’t move. The brachial muscles in his forearms were taut as wires, and she reached up to feel them.

“Marcus,” she said.

“Shush. I just want to enjoy this moment. There will never be another first time.”

“But didn’t we…before?”

“I don’t think we did, not fully.”

“Oh. Then don’t make me wait any longer.”

He pushed into her slowly, and Abby wrapped her legs around his back to encourage him. She put her arms around the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss, and they rocked together, picking up the rhythm and the tension. Kane increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, his moans growing louder, his breathing heavy. Abby reached down and circled her clit, willing herself to come before he did, not wanting him to have to wait any longer. It was always easier the second time, and she cried out to him as she felt herself getting close.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” He continued thrusting until she could feel him emptying inside her just as she was pulsing around his cock, and they collapsed in a sweaty heap on the cloak, Kane rolling off her, but moving back so that his arm was across her stomach and he was facing her.

“God, that was so good,” he said.

Abby smiled. “Yeah. I can’t believe we didn’t do it before. I felt certain we must have. I was sore the next day.”

“That was my fault, I think. I got carried away with my fingers.”

Abby took his hand in his, linked his fingers through hers and kissed them. “Yes, these long, clever fingers. I remember those. Where are your skeleton gloves?”

“I took them off in the bathroom.”

“Next time you should wear those as well.”

“I can buy them when I pay for the cloak. I don’t think I’ll be taking it back to the store.”

Abby laughed. “God, no. We’re the worst kind of chaperones, aren’t we?”

Kane yawned. “Hmmm? Why?”

“We’ve ended up doing what we were supposed to stop the students from doing, having sex in the haunted house.”

“We did our job, and there was no one to chaperone us, thank heavens.”

“Do you want to come back to mine? I have a nice bed, or a nice floor if you prefer.”

Kane pulled her towards him, trapping her in a hug. “In a minute. Give me a minute.”

Abby relaxed into his arms, and then tensed when there was a loud bang in the house. She sat up, startled, and Kane groaned.

“What was that?”

“Probably a cat or something.”

“Are you sure you locked the door?”

“You saw me do it.”

“But people have keys.”

“They’re not supposed to come back here tonight.”

“They’re kids, Marcus. They don’t do as they’re told.”

“Shit.”

Marcus got up and passed Abby’s clothes to her. She didn’t bother with the stockings, which were ruined anyway. She pulled on her underwear and the dress, slipped her feet into the shoes. Kane had fastened the cloak back around him.

“My clothes are still in the bathroom.”

“You’ll have to get them tomorrow.”

“How’s that going to look?”

“Better than you creeping around now half naked.”

“Jesus, Abby.” Kane laughed, and Abby snorted, and they could hardly contain themselves as they slowly opened the door into the hallway. There was no one to be seen, and Abby searched around for the apron that went with her dress. It wasn’t where she had left it.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Raven Reyes, a third-year engineering student was standing in the doorway of the séance room, holding Abby’s apron in the air.

“Oh, Raven. Erm, yes. I. Erm. I was looking for that, yes.”

Raven shook her head. “Don’t even try to deny what you’ve been doing. I heard your laughter all the way from the kitchen.”

“Doctor Griffin and I were checking that the house was secure.”

“Were you? Without your clothes on?” She reached behind her and picked up Kane’s bundle of clothes. “I was busting for a pee, and that’s why I came in to use the bathroom. I found your clothes on the floor and then I heard you laughing when I banged the hall door by accident.”

“Raven.” Abby stepped towards the girl, but Raven held her hand up.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Luckily, you’re one of my favourite people on campus.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Take these and get out of here.”

Kane took the clothes she thrust at him and Abby opened the door. They stumbled out into the cold air. The clouds had parted and the moon was casting a ghostly glow over the fog.

“My house is only a few hundred yards away, across the road.” She started to head towards home but Kane grabbed her arm.

“In a minute.” He pulled her round to the side of the house and pushed her up against the wall.

“We can’t do it here, Marcus.”

“Just a kiss, while there’s still a few minutes of Halloween left.”

They kissed, hidden in the shadows of the house, until the clock struck midnight, and Kane released her from his grip.

“How are we going to top this next year?” he said.

“I don’t know,” replied Abby, “but we’ve got a whole year to figure things out.”

THE END


End file.
